


Ain't No Easy Way Out

by littledaybreaker



Category: Captain America (Movies), Wonder Woman (2017)
Genre: Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-11
Packaged: 2019-01-15 09:45:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12318522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littledaybreaker/pseuds/littledaybreaker
Summary: Fifteen years after having been recovered from cryostasis, Steve Rogers and his husband Bucky have been living a quiet life in Brooklyn, attempting to downplay their superpowers in a world where people simply don't have those...until one day, a woman they've never met before arrives at their door with an important request, thrusting them back into a world they thought they had escaped from once and for all.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this (rather ambitious) project takes place in an alternate universe (obviously) with some elements of both the MCU and the DCEU. Basically, it assumes that Steve (Rogers) was ineligible to join the military due to his health, but that he was covertly given the Super Soldier serum and did serve, but that after the war/plane crash/being frozen, he never resumed his Captain America duties after waking up. It also assumes that Bucky was captured, brainwashed by Hydra, completed some missions, but then was placed in suspended animation in anticipation of a third world war which never occurred, until he was rescued by the same people who rescued Steve and was rehabilitated. It also assumes that Diana did basically what she did in the Wonder Woman film and went on to have a reasonably normal/quiet life without doing any superhero type activities (although she could and would have if the need was there). In this universe superheroes are not commonplace, so there’s no Avengers/Justice League, just some people, Bucky, Steve, and Diana included, who happen to have remarkable powers of one variety or another. In the future I intend to do some flashback chapters outlining Bucky and Steve's rescues and lives thereafter, as well as Diana's. 
> 
> I've never done anything this ambitious before and feedback is greatly appreciated!

Late on an otherwise unremarkable Sunday night in the middle of August, someone knocked on the Rogers’ door.

“Don’t answer it,” Steve said sleepily, still engrossed in a History Channel documentary about the Kennedy family. “Who calls on someone at eleven pm?”

 _It can only be bad news,_ Bucky thought to himself, but got to his feet anyway. “It might be important,” he said by way of reasoning, and then, “besides, we could take whatever’s out there, right?”

Steve chuckled nervously, but didn’t otherwise make any move to stop him, so Bucky opened the door. “Can I help you?” he asked with all the crotchety old man vitriol he could muster. “You know it’s l—”

 

Standing in front of him, suddenly, was the most remarkable woman he had ever seen—so remarkable, in fact, that he stopped dead in his tracks and just stared at her with his mouth agape for a moment. It wasn’t just that she was beautiful—which she was—but there was something else about her that was so magnetic, so _powerful,_ that all he could do was stand there and look at her, certain that she could not possibly be of this world.

The woman, for her part, seemed completely unbothered by Bucky’s staring. “Are you James Buchanan Barnes?” she asked, stepping into the foyer. “I need your help.”

“Sorry,” Bucky said, recovering himself, shaking his head, “who are you, exactly?”

“I am Diana, Pr—Diana Prince,” she said, “And I need your help.”

Having recovered his senses, Bucky’s first thought was that he should kick her out, but instead, for whatever bizarre reason, he asked instead, “Uh, what kind of help?”

“I had heard that you are…unusual,” the woman—Diana—said, taking off her shoes, setting them neatly in the corner. “And I believe that your gifts could be of use to me.”

“Unusual? I don’t know what you’re talking about. I think you have me confused for another James Barnes, uh, you need to leave…no! Don’t go in there!” because the woman was heading straight for the living room. He trailed after her. “Lady, you can’t just—what are you—oh god.”

“You must be Steve Rogers,” she said warmly to a very dumbfounded Steve. “My name is Diana, and I am so excited to meet you and James. I’ve read so much about you.”

Steve shot Bucky a “what the hell is going on?” look over Diana’s shoulder, but all Bucky could do was shrug, just as absolutely lost as Steve was. “I—sorry, it’s nice to meet you but what’s your business here?” Steve asked, trying to keep his voice calm and bright—his PR voice, as Bucky called it.

“I came to you because I believe your gifts could be of some use to me,” Diana said again. “I have reason to believe that a…colleague…of mine was lost under similar circumstances and I was hoping that you could aid me in a recovery mission.”

 _That_ certainly got Bucky’s attention. He sat down next to Steve. “We’re listening,” he said. “Please sit down.”

Diana did, continuing. “During the first World War, I along with a group of gentlemen, aided in an armistice mission in Germany,” she began. “The mission was successful but—as with all missions of war—was not without casualties.”

Bucky and Steve exchanged glances, recognition dawning at the same time as they realized who, exactly, was sitting in their living room. They had heard of this so-called “Wonder Woman”, of course. During _their_ war, the second one, there had been plenty of jokes to go around about when she was going to show up—after the first war, she had all but disappeared, leading most people to believe that she was a myth, that someone had seen that now-infamous photo and invented  their own narrative. But Bucky and Steve had always known better. They, after all, had firsthand experience with the kind of stuff that most of the guys in their platoon had only ever read about in comic books. Still, no evidence of her had ever surfaced besides that photo, and it was one thing to have a belief that she could have, at one time, existed and quite another to see her sitting in their living room almost a hundred years later.

“One of my companions, Steve Trevor, was lost in this mission, or so it seemed. He was flying a bomber full of gas and sacrificed himself to save many others. But no evidence of him, or his plane, was ever found. And believe me, I have looked.”

Steve nodded sympathetically, reaching for and squeezing Bucky’s hand. Hadn’t he been in the same position not so very long ago? “So how can we help?” he asked.

Diana smiled warmly at him. “I believe it is possible that Steve was taken by a prototype of the group who took you,” she said, gesturing to Bucky. “And I believe that he could still be alive—well—“asleep” as you were. I am asking for your help in finding him.”

Bucky hesitated, glancing at Steve but finding his face unreadable, and there was then a moment of uncomfortable silence before Steve finally spoke. “Diana,” he said gently, “it’s been a long time, and people who go through what we went through…they don’t—it’s a really delicate thing, and I’m not sure…” he trailed off, and Bucky picked up for him. “There’s a pretty good chance your friend’s brain is never going to be the same again, even if he’s still alive. The mind control techniques these people use are…pervasive. Even if he’s still alive, if they did or said anything to him before he went under, or even if they used something—a gas, a serum—while he’s been under, he could be a totally different person than the one you knew, and…it’s gonna take years before he even vaguely resembles the person he did back then.” He thought, briefly, of the endless days and nights in the psych ward, of the fear and confusion, of the nightmares that still plagued him some nights. He thought of the helpless, hollow sound of Steve’s voice when they talked on the phone while he was in the hospital, thought, too, of Steve’s own sense of being out of time and what his comparatively innocuous recovery must have been like.

“Bucky’s right,” Steve added. “Even if your Steve _wasn’t_ being influenced by Hydra, coming out of a sleep that long can destroy a person, too. It’s a lot to consider, Diana, and I dunno if it’s…if the benefits outweigh the risks.”

“I know it won’t be easy,” Diana said with just the slightest hint of impatient insolence. “I sought you out, did I not? I read the research and all the articles. And if Steve is alive, somewhere, especially with those evil people, I need to get to him. I will do it with or without your help, but with your help I think there are greater chances of success.” She patted her bag. “I have a plan here, if you’d like to see it.”

Bucky and Steve glanced at each other again. “Give her a chance,” Steve said into Bucky’s ear. “Let’s hear her out, we’re not committing to anything just now.”

“Okay,” said Bucky, “Show us what you’ve got.”

Diana began taking things out of her bag—newspaper clippings, notes, maps, and photographs, spreading them across the coffee table. “I’ve been tracking the movements of the Hydra group for a number of years,” she began. “As we already know, there are bases in the following locations—” indicating them on the map “But I have reason to believe that operations are still being carried out from the location of the German High Command during our war.” She spread some of the photographs out on the desk. “Although the building supposedly now houses part of the German Embassy, it appears that there’s no record of this address being used to conduct Embassy business anywhere. They’ve forged enough documents to make it look legitimate—”

“—Unless you look too hard,” Bucky finished, sighing. “Sounds like Hydra to me.” This whole thing was already giving him a headache.

“Right,” Diana affirmed. “Now, located about five miles back in the words…” she rifled through the papers until she found what she was looking for. “…is this.” She held out the photograph and Steve took it out of her hands, studying it. It looked like an otherwise unremarkable storage shed, perhaps a hunting shack, albeit better maintained than most. “And this is…?” he asked.

Diana hesitated. “This is what I’m not sure of,” she began. “The area around the, whatever it is, is heavily guarded and protected. Cameras, fences, underground currents, everything you can imagine. It’s obvious that whatever it is, they don’t want to make it easy to get to, and I believe it could be a training or prisoner holding facility, an underground one—like the one that you were in in Siberia, James.”

“How do you even _know_ …?” Bucky asked, somewhat awestruck.

“ _Research,_ James,” Diana said impatiently. “I did my research. It wasn’t even hard to find once I knew what I was looking for.”

Steve snorted and Bucky elbowed him in the side. “Not funny,” he hissed.

“Kind of funny,” Steve whispered back. Diana watched this from the other side of the room, smiling patiently.

 “Are you done?” she asked, and they both nodded sheepishly as though they were school children being chastised by a teacher. “So, as I was saying, I believe that this may be where Steve—my Steve—is being held. I can’t do it alone, but I believe that with your special talents and knowledge, we can infiltrate the base and rescue Steve and any others that may possibly be held there. Would you be willing to help me?”

There was a long pause. “Can we have a moment?” Steve asked, finally, and Diana nodded. “I’ll wait here,” she said.

“Thanks.” Steve got to his feet, dragging Bucky behind him, and the two men ducked into the kitchen.

“God, she’s sassy,” Bucky complained.

“Look who’s talking.” Steve looked like he was trying not to burst out laughing. “But she has a valid point, Buck. All signs here point to that building having _something_ to do with Hydra, and if there are prisoners there, even just one prisoner…isn’t it our duty to do something about it? Like she said, it’s not like there are many people out there like us. Until today, we thought we might be the only ones, you know? I know that we never wanted to use our powers anymore but Buck…I don’t know. I just feel pretty strongly that we should do something.”

“Yeah.” Bucky still looked a little uncertain. “But Steve, how do we even know she’s legitimate? I mean, it could just be a giant trap, she could be Hydra, we just don’t know. I don’t think it’s safe…”

It was Steve’s turn to look at Bucky as though he had three heads. “That woman single-handedly ended the first world war, Buck.  We’ve all heard the stories. And besides, I just…feel like she should be trusted. I can’t explain why, or how, I just _do_.”

Bucky faltered. He’d felt that, too—it was something he’d only ever felt one time before: the first time he met Steve. And his instincts hadn’t been wrong then. “Okay, fine,” he said after a moment. “Let’s do this.”

Steve hugged him tight. “You won’t regret this,” he said into his husband’s hair. “I promise.”

“We’ll see,” Bucky muttered, prompting a laugh from Steve as they walked back into the living room, sitting opposite Diana again.

“We’re going to do it,” Steve announced, not giving Bucky enough time to change his mind.

Diana’s face lit up, and she rose, embracing them both. “I can’t thank you enough.”

“I do have one question, though,” Bucky began, ignoring the dirty look Steve was giving him. “How did you find out about us—about our…gifts, I mean? Because as far as we knew there was no one else like us, and it’s not like there’s any kind of registry or…I’m just wondering how you could have found this out.”

Diana nodded. “When I first began researching, it seemed it would be impossible to successfully complete such a mission because I thought that I was alone. But as I began to read more about the experiments conducted by Hydra, your name, James, kept coming up. And your name led me to your platoon, which led me to you, Steve. And finding you meant finding your medical records…even the classified ones. And when I learned that you were still alive, I knew that you could be the ones to help me.”

Both men nodded solemnly. This time, it was Bucky who spoke first. “It would be an honor to help you, Diana.”

“Thank you.” She began gathering her paperwork. “I will be back tomorrow. Get some rest, we have a long, long journey ahead of us.”

“We will see you tomorrow,” Steve said, walking her to the door. “Travel safe, Diana.”

“Thank you, Steve,” she said, hugging him. “Sleep well.”

And then, just as quickly as she’d come, she was gone.

“What the hell just happened?” Bucky asked, coming up behind Steve and wrapping his arms around his waist. “I mean, what the hell did we just sign ourselves up for?”

“I have no idea.” Steve’s voice was grim. “I just hope that whatever it is, we’re ready for it.”

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed, taking Steve’s hand. “Let’s get some sleep now. Who knows the next time we’re going to do that.”

 

As Bucky fell into his uneasy sleep later that night, Steve sleeping as peacefully as could be beside him, all he could think about was how very unprepared to go back to war he was. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky, Steve and Diana depart for Paris. Featuring a brief interlude back to 1918 wherein (other) Steve is captured.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Going to get more plot in the next chapter--but with something like this I realized there's a certain degree of world building that has to be done first. Oh well, more adventures & flashback interludes will abound in chapter 3! Thank you for following along!

When the knock at the door came the next morning, Bucky had a moment of confusion, sure that he had dreamt the whole thing. There was no way it could have been real, no way that it could have happened. So he snuggled back down into bed, pulling the blanket over his head and allowing himself a few more peaceful minutes of sleep even as Steve rose, grumbling, to get the door.

It didn’t take long, however, for Diana’s and Steve’s voices drifting out of the hallway to fully awaken Bucky and remind him that no, it hadn’t been a dream. With a heavy, “I am way too old for this” sigh, he rose, still tying his dressing gown as he entered the kitchen, where Diana—looking way too _awake_ —and Steve were standing, holding paper cups of coffee and chatting idly.

“Good morning, James,” Diana said, holding out a cup of coffee. “Are you ready to get started?”

“Lemme drink this first,” Bucky replied, taking a grateful sip, “and you can call me Bucky. _Please_ call me Bucky.”

“Bucky.” She nodded. “I was just asking Steve if you’d been to Paris since your war ended, he was saying you hadn’t.”

“We haven’t really gotten out much,” Bucky admitted. Even though it had been almost two decades since their rescues, so much of their time had been spent getting Bucky well and then settling in to their life, trying to adjust to the modern world, that they had missed out on a lot of things. They’d married without fanfare a few years back, when it became legal, and their only witnesses had been another couple who were waiting to get married. Steve had managed to make friends with some fellow vets at the Legion, but Bucky hadn’t ever gotten the hang of it. Theirs was a quiet life, but he’d liked it that way. “Maybe one day, though.”

“Soon!” Diana said cheerfully. “That’s where I work—at the Louvre—and I thought it might make a good base of operations. Steve and I were thinking that while I get in touch with my German connections you could have a little vacation, a honeymoon.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Oh, were you.”

“It would be good for us,” Steve began. “It—” he hesitated. “It’ll be good, Buck.”

Bucky sipped his coffee, saying nothing. He knew that Steve knew what he was thinking, knew that Steve was thinking the same things as he was, but was too blinded by his optimism to say it. “So what’s the plan here, Diana? Besides vacationing.”

“We leave tonight and arrive tomorrow morning. Once I make contact with my German contacts, I will have a more certain timeline on when we can get to Germany. Once we get to Germany and spend some time exploring the area we can make our plan of attack. I am hoping to spend no more than four or five days there. The biggest issue is getting the prisoners into the care of doctors as soon as we can.” She watched Bucky’s reaction carefully. “My contacts don’t have connections for that, but…”

“I can help.” Bucky refused to meet Diana’s eyes, but his voice was strong. “I have a contact at the hospital here in New York that helped Steve and I. I can call him before we leave.”

Relief flooded Diana’s face. “I knew I could rely on you. Thank you.”

Bucky shrugged, draining the rest of his coffee. “It’s the least I can do.” He cleared his throat. “Well, I guess I better start getting stuff together for the trip. See you later, Diana.” And then he was gone, abruptly, leaving Steve and Diana standing in the kitchen. “You better go,” Steve said uncertainly.

“Yes,” Diana agreed, “I have work to do as well.” Her face was blank, but as she turned to go, she turned around again suddenly, embracing Steve tightly. “Thank you,” she whispered. “This means more than you can possibly know.”

Steve swallowed the lump in his throat, his mind drifting to the image of the other Steve, Diana’s Steve—of the little half smile on his face, not unlike his own Bucky’s roguish half-smile, and he hugged her a little tighter. Hadn’t he been here just a few short years ago? Willing to lay down everything he had—including his own life—to save the person that meant the most to him? “I know, Diana,” he said softly. “I know. We’re gonna do this. We’re not going to lose. We’ve got this.”

“It isn’t too late to back out,” Diana said quietly, not backing out of the hug. “You don’t have to die with me. You barely know me.”

“Diana,” Steve said calmly, summoning all the strength he had inside of himself. “I _was_ you. We’re going to do this. We’re behind you.”

Diana finally let go, straightening herself. “Thank you, Steve. I will see you later tonight.”

“See you later, Diana.” He walked her to the door, holding it open for her, and then stood in the foyer until her footfalls were no longer audible, letting himself cry for the first—and last—time before he steeled himself, heading back into the bedroom to get ready. They had a lot of work to do.

* * *

 

 

_Interlude: November 1918_

Steve woke up to the sound of people talking. It was faint at first, so faint (and incoherent) that he thought perhaps he was still unconscious and dreaming. He took stock of himself as best as he could. His arms felt leaden, but they moved, sort of. Enough to touch his face. Eyes, nose, mouth, ears, good. He wiggled his toes, better still, even though the legs themselves were not yet moving. He blinked. His eyes still worked, and if he was hearing voices, surely his ears still worked. He could feel blood trickling down between his eyes and his mouth felt cottony, but he was alive, thank _God._

The voices were drawing closer, accompanied by the crunching of frozen ground—still incoherent, but, he realized, it was because they were not speaking English. _Fuck,_ Steve thought. This was bad, this was so, so bad, this was _catastrophically_ fucking bad. Now would have been a great time for some sort of superhuman strength to manifest—or for Diana to burst out of the woods with her fucking sword—but neither happened. “Diana,” he tried, just in case—but all the cotton in his mouth made it impossible to say anything in a voice louder than a whisper. Helplessly, he began to sob, defeated, ready to accept his death.

He was still sobbing miserably when the footfalls stopped. “ _Sprichst du Deutsch?”_ a gruff male voice asked.

Steve stopped crying. He opened his eyes, tilted his head—trying to ignore the way it burned all the way down his neck. “Uh…Nicht…ein…” all his rudimentary German had escaped him, fuck it all. The man—wearing a German uniform, but not one Steve had ever seen before, curiously—nodded. “Stay there,” he commanded, as if Steve was going anywhere in the state he was in. Steve nodded, and the officer marched back into the woods away. Steve tried to relax, closing his eyes. The more consciousness he gained the more everything hurt, and all he could hope was that they would kill him quickly and mercifully. He could hear them conferring in German, speaking in hushed tones, and then they were both standing in front of him again.

“You’re wearing a German uniform,” the first officer said. “Spy?”

“Uhhhhhhh…” He was fucked now, so what was the point of lying? “Yeah,” he said reluctantly. “A spy.”

More conferring in low German tones. “We will take you to the hospital,” the second officer said, finally.

Steve’s eyes snapped open. “What?”

“We will take you to hospital,” the officer repeated. “We will help you.”

Steve decided he wasn’t going to question it. “Okay…”

“War is over,” the first officer explained, an eerie smile crossing his face. “You are no longer our enemy.”

Steve laughed hollowly. “Great,” he said. “So…can you get me out of here now?”

The officers glanced at each other and further German conferring occurred. “We take care of you,” the second officer said. “Officer Weber will get the medical unit. Do not worry now. We take good care of you.”

Steve nodded. “Awesome, great,” he said. “Uh, if you don’t mind, I’m just gonna rest until the medical team comes, okay? Cause I’m kinda…I kinda took a tumble here.”

There was that eerie smile again. “Yes, of course. You want something for pain?”

That got Steve’s attention. “Can I?” he asked, trying—and failing—not to sound desperate.

“Yes, of course.” From his bag, the first officer—officer Weber—was already withdrawing a syringe full of glowing blue liquid. If it was poison, Steve was too tired and in pain to care. As the liquid filled his veins and brought instantaneous relief, he began to relax, leaning back into the cockpit of the plane. As he began to lose consciousness, the last thing he thought of was Diana telling him she loved him.

Steve Trevor lost consciousness with a smile on his face.

When he woke up again, he was alone in a hospital room. His cursory body check revealed his head was bandaged and he was surprisingly pain free—owing, he assumed, to the IV drip of the same blue liquid as Officer Weber had given him before he lost consciousness.

The room itself was not terribly remarkable. It was more advanced, perhaps, than the army hospitals he’d been in, but there was absolutely nothing suspicious about the place, other than it was eerily quiet, and, as far as he could tell, he was alone. Feeling ambitious, he attempted to sit up. Almost immediately, there was a nurse at his bedside. “You need to lay down, Mr. Trevor,” she said in unaccented English.

“How do you know my name?” he asked, still trying to sit up. The nurse put a forceful hand on his shoulder, forcing him to stay laying down.

“Mr. Trevor, I think it’s best if you lay down,” she repeated, a bit more forcefully this time.

It was then that Steve began to realize that something was terribly, terribly wrong. “I gotta go.” He tried, without much success, to wrestle the nurse’s hand off his shoulder. “Let go of me!”

“Mr. Trevor, there’s no need to be afraid. The war is over. We are not your enemies.” The nurse smiled. “You need to relax, Mr. Trevor. We can’t help you unless you relax. We are going to take good care of you…we are not your enemies.”

“You keep saying that,” he said, “But I’m starting to get the feeling that you might be. So if you’ll excuse me, I’m feeling much better and—” finally managing to wriggle his way out of her grasp. “—I think it’s better if I go.” He tried to swing his legs over the side of the bed—only to be met with two more officers like the ones who had found him, forcefully shoving him back onto the bed, clamping a mask over his mouth. He was out again before he had time to react.

That was the last time Steve Trevor was conscious.

* * *

 

By the time Diana knocked again, later that evening, Bucky and Steve had been ready for hours. There wasn’t much to pack—Diana had promised there would be weaponry available to them—and it hadn’t felt right to do anything but wait it out. They hadn’t done much talking—what was there to say, really? Bucky was still not convinced that this was the right thing to do, and Steve—hopeless romantic though he was—was never going to be convinced otherwise. It had worked out for them, so why couldn’t it work out for other people? So there was no discussion to be had until Diana came to the door. “The car is waiting,” she said. “Do you have everything? You’re ready?”

“As ready as we’ll ever be,” Bucky said, trying to sound as optimistic as he could.

Diana smiled. “Hopefully we can sleep on the plane. The flight is never my favorite part.”

Bucky looked at her curiously. “You don’t like to fly?”

“I never did get the hang of it… and besides, all this security now, it’s too much.”

Bucky considered this as they walked down the hallway and out of the building—possibly for the last time. It struck him then that Diana had already lived her whole life by the time he was even born. He tried to imagine how ancient she must feel. Sometimes he felt like the oldest person on the planet, and here Diana was having lived a whole lifetime more.  He suddenly felt horribly sad for her—at least he’d always had Steve. She’d had to live out her life—go through all of this—by herself, and that was the loneliest thing Bucky could imagine. He suddenly realized why Steve had wanted to do this. He wasn’t motivated by bravado or a chance to use his powers—he had been motivated by a selfless desire to do some good, to, maybe, give Diana a chance to not be alone anymore. He felt a rush of love for his husband stronger than any he’d felt before and had to resist the temptation to pull him close right there in the lobby of the building as the doorman loaded their bags. He settled for reaching for his hand, giving it a squeeze. Steve leaned over and kissed him on the side of the head as they got into the car. “You’re a good man, Steven Rogers,” he murmured, and Steve grinned his goofy, aw-shucks grin that Bucky was so fond of. “You’re not so bad yourself, James Rogers,” he whispered back. Bucky  opened his mouth, prepared to argue, but decided against it, leaning his head on Steve’s shoulder and settling in for the ride.

For someone who professed to hate flying and airports, Diana was remarkably efficient at navigating through them, and obviously used them a lot. She had them through security and into their (first class) seats in record time. For what he was certain was not going to be the last time, Bucky was completely in awe of Diana. She was, if nothing else, full of mysteries. He thought briefly of asking her how she’d managed to get all of this arranged in such a short period of time, but thought better of it. Some things, he knew, were better left as mysteries. So instead he accepted a glass of wine from the flight attendant, leaned back in his seat, and watched his city disappear into the horizon as they took off for Paris.

 


End file.
